“Their aspect is terrifying. . . They are very tall in stature, with rippling muscles under clear, white skin.” Thus wrote the Greek historian, Diodorus Siculus in the first century B.C., describing the Celtic peoples.

Diodorus continued: “The Celtic way of fighting was alarming. They wore . . . bronze helmets with figures picked out on them, even horns, which make them look even taller than they already are . . . while others cover themselves with breast-armor made of chains. But most content themselves with the weapons nature gave them: they go naked into battle.”

Emerging from central Europe around 1000 B.C., these fierce warlike people were among the most successful conquerors the world had ever seen. Archaeologists have discovered Celtic artifacts as far North as Denmark and as far east as India. By the time of the Roman Empire, however, Celtic dominance had waned, being limited primarily to Gaul (modern France) and the British Isles, where Celtic languages are still spoken today.

The Romans discovered the ferocity of the Celts in 390 B.C. when a Celtic tribe from Gaul sacked Rome. The tables were turned two centuries later when Julius Caesar tried to annex Gaul, and later Britain, for Rome. It would take nearly a hundred years more before Rome finally succeeded in bringing the British Celts into her empire. Even then, Rome had to send about an eighth of her entire fighting force to the island just to keep the Celts from revolting. Moreover, a heavily fortified 76-mile-long barrier, known as Hadrian’s Wall (named after the Emperor who commissioned it), was required in order to keep at bay the wild confederation of Celtic tribes living in the North.

Fierce as they may have been, the Celts were sensitive to poetry, music, and the arts. They were great craftsmen, fine story-tellers, and legendary for their hospitality.

Transformed by the Gospel

No one knows for sure how the Celts living in the British Isles first heard about the gospel. According to one set of legends, Christianity was introduced to Britain shortly after the resurrection by Joseph of Arimathea, a tin merchant who is thought to be Jesus’ great uncle. Whether there is any truth to such stories or not, it is clear from the writings of people like Tertullian (c. 160–c. 220) and Origen of Alexandria (c. 185–c. 254) that Christianity was well established in Britain by the second century, possibly earlier.

When these warrior poets embraced Christianity, they lost none of their fierceness nor their poetry but put these qualities to the service of God’s Kingdom. Like King David, the prayers and hymns of the Celts showed a vision of the Lord that was raw, rugged and untamed. It was a hardy faith that would later give birth to stalwart reformers such as John Knox.

If Christianity helped to mitigate the barbarism of the Celts, it diminished none of their natural temerity. Celtic monks were known to be just as courageous, and sometimes just as foolhardy, as their pagan forefathers.

“A Spirit of Restless Energy”

The Celts had always been keen explorers, eager to seek adventure through travel. After their conversion to Christianity, it is not surprising that this dynamic energy found expression in some incredible missionary voyages. Never half-hearted about anything, Celtic missionaries sailed to wild Nordic lands, or to rural areas in Gaul where the Christianizing influences of the late Roman empire had not yet penetrated. Old Irish writings with Christian symbols have even been found as far afield as West Virginia, presenting a mystery for archaeologists and scholars to the present day.

While we may never know the extent of their missionary labors, it is clear that the Celts were some of the boldest evangelists the world has ever known. “A spirit of restless energy possessed them,” wrote Katharine Scherman in The Flowering of Ireland. “It was given many names, but its cause must surely be sought in the peculiarly Irish development of Christianity in the early centuries: a seeking curiosity, the desire to expand mental boundaries along with physical, to find new ideas in new settings.”

It is one of these Celtic missionaries whose story concerns us now.

In Search of Exile

Columbanus was born around 543 in what is now south Leinster, Ireland. Not much is known about his childhood, but we do know that he grew up in a Christian community where he was nurtured in the faith by his God-fearing mother.

As he grew older, the young man lacked none of the native beauty of the Celts. In fact, according to his seventh-century biographer, Jonas of Bobbio, it was his physical attractiveness that began a series of events that would result in Columbanus embracing the life of a monastic.

Columbanus was not only handsome, but his fine figure, the splendid color of his hair, and his noble manliness made him beloved by all, especially by the young maidens. The attractions of the opposite sex did not go unnoticed by Columbanus, who began to find it increasingly difficult to resist the advances of beautiful girls. Fearing that he was on the brink of giving into the lusts of the flesh, Columbanus sought the council of a female hermit known for her wisdom.

The woman, who twelve years earlier had fled from the world and shut herself up in a cell, reminded Columbanus that Samson, David and Solomon had all been led astray by females. Recalling her own example of pious exile, her advice to the young man was blunt: “Away, O youth, away! Flee from corruption, into which, as you know, many have fallen. Forsake the path which leads to the gates of hell.”

A true Celt, Columbanus took the injunction to “flee” literally. To him it could only mean one thing: he must seek exile as a monk.

Returning home, he immediately began to pack his bags, while his mother urged him to reconsider. It is not hard to guess why she opposed the idea: for the Celts, going into exile as a monk was always meant to be permanent. Indeed, if one ever returned home, it was looked upon as backsliding.

When it became clear that her words would not deter her son from the path he had chosen, she changed her strategy. She barred the entrance to the cottage with her own body. Undeterred, Columbanus is said to have leaped “over both threshold and mother.”

Columbanus traveled to the northwest monastery of Cleenish. From there he went to Bangor (in present-day Wales), where he studied under the fiery Irish Pict, Comgall.

Columbanus and Comgall got on well together. Both were bold, rough, and adventurous. Comgall was so rugged, in fact, that in his younger days he had taken a number of his followers to a remote island, where he ordered them to fast for days on end. However, emulating the lifestyle of desert monastics in the harsh climate of Ireland proved too much for many of Comgall’s weaker followers, some of whom died before the exercise was complete. But the dead monks were soon replaced by hundreds of others attracted to the austere lifestyle. These monks congregated at Bangor, where a thriving monastery was established.

Columbanus remained at Bangor for 25 years, gaining a reputation both as a scholar and a model of piety.

Columbanus Takes to the Sea

“[For] the Irish people,” observed the Benedictine theologian, Walafrid Strabo, in the ninth century, “the custom of traveling to foreign lands has now become almost second nature.” Columbanus was no exception, and by his mid-forties the desire to travel to far-off lands became too strong to resist. Although Comgall was initially hesitant to let him go, the abbot did eventually approve a missionary voyage to Gaul.

Taking twelve disciples with him, Columbanus and his men journeyed first to Britain. As they braved the elements in their small craft, Columbanus kept up the courage of his men by composing and singing songs such as the following:

The Boat Song of Saint Columbanus

Cut in the forests, swept down the two-horned Rhine,
Our keel, tight-caulked, now floats upon the sea.
Heia, men! Let the echoes resound with our heia!

The wild gusts swell, the slashing torrents fall,
But manly strength has force to tame the storm.
Heia, men! Let the echoes resound with our heia!

To earnest effort, clouds and tempest yield;
Zeal and unceasing labor conquer all.
Heia, men! Let the echoes resound with our heia!

Endure and save yourselves for better things;
Oh you who have suffered worse, this too shall end.
Heia, men! Let the echoes resound with our heia!

So when the loathsome foe assaults our hearts,
Tempting and shaking the depths of our hearts with passion,
Let your souls, men, remembering Christ, cry heia!

In resolution fixed, scorn Satan’s wiles.
By virtues armed, defend yourselves with valor.
Let your souls, men, remembering Christ, cry heia!

Firm faith and holy ardor conquer all.
The ancient fiend, defeated, breaks his arrows.
Let your souls, men, remembering Christ, cry heia!

The Source of Good and Being, the Highest Power,
Offers the warrior and gives the victor prizes.
Let your souls, men, remembering Christ, cry heia!

Ministry in Gaul

From Britain, Columbanus and his companions traveled to Gaul, where they were welcomed by the King of Burgundy. The king offered the monks a half-ruined Roman fortress in the Vosges mountains for a base.
Far away from civilization and nourished only with what the forest provided, it was an ideal life for Columbanus, who once said that he was “seeking the salvation of many, and a solitary spot of my own.” Whether for better or worse, his effectiveness at the former rendered him unsuccessful at the latter. Almost immediately the monastery began to attract crowds who had heard about the sanctity of Columbanus and his men. To escape, he would often withdraw to a distant cave, taking only a single companion to act as messenger between himself and the brothers back at base.

In rapid succession Columbanus established monasteries at Annegray, Luxeuil, and Fontaine. Country-dwelling aristocrats flocked to these communities as a welcome alternative to the exclusively urban monasteries that had characterized pre-Columbanian Gaul. Once a monastery became too crowded Columbanus would move on and start a new one.

Opposition Arises

Not everyone was happy about the influence of Columbanus on the Continent. In Ireland, it was customary for an abbot, not a bishop, to supervise a monastic network. In Gaul, on the other hand, early sixth-century councils had handed Frankish bishops absolute authority over abbots and their monasteries, even ordering abbots to appear periodically before their bishops. Columbanus simply ignored these rules and carried on the Celtic pattern he was used to, to the chagrin of the French clergy. While this alienated him from the church leaders, it endeared him to the people. This was because many Frankish bishops were perceived as simply adjuncts of a power-hungry political system, being appointed by kings as a way to reward royal servants. Historian Richard A. Fletcher notes that this practice made many French families apprehensive – sometimes with good reason – of the covetous designs of the nearby bishop on their endowments. The politically autonomous monasteries of Columbanus were a welcome alternative and attracted many aristocrats to the monastic lifestyle.

Columbanus also encountered opposition because of his radical views on forgiveness. By the sixth century an exceptionally harsh model of penance had emerged, whereby the church told sinners that they could only demonstrate repentance through a ceremony of public shaming, administered by a bishop in front of the entire congregation. That was only the beginning. Penitents were debarred from ever holding public office – a Spanish king in the seventh century who underwent penance had to abdicate – and were segregated into a special part of the church building, where they had to listen to the communal intercessions for them. This meant that assurance of God’s forgiveness was kept at arm’s length for many Christians. Moreover, penance could only be undergone once in a lifetime, so anyone who transgressed again was cut off from any hope of pardon.

Not only did Columbanus preach the message of forgiveness to the pagans, he also helped to educate the church in the wonderful news of God’s forgiveness. He taught that penance could be administered by any priest, and as many times as was necessary. Though he commanded penitent sinners to perform acts such as fasting, the central principle behind it was repentance and turning away from sin. “True penance,” he wrote, “is to not commit things deserving of penance and to lament such things as have been committed.” This held out hope to many Frankish nobles who, unwilling to face the rigors of penance, would otherwise have believed themselves cut off from all hope of salvation. However, the Frankish bishops did not look kindly on these developments which helped to lessen their own control.

It was one thing to challenge the customs and hierarchies of French bishops, and quite another to take on the pope himself. But this is what Columbanus did on more than one occasion, writing to the popes in tones ranging from bemusement to ridicule. “What makes me bold, if I may say so,” he wrote in one of his more mild letters to the Roman pontiff, “is partly the freedom of speech which is the custom of my country. For among us it is not the person but the argument that carries weight.” (For more information on the tension between the Celts and Roman Catholicism throughout the first millennium, including quotations from Columbanus on this subject, see my article, “The Celts vs Roman Catholicism”.)

It wasn’t just the pope and the Frankish bishops who drew the ire of the feisty Irish monk. Columbanus had a run-in with the polygamous king, Theuderic II, and his grandmother, Brunhilda, when he refused to bless Theuderic’s illegitimate heirs. As a result, he was thrown out of the region. He remained on the Continent, however, preaching and establishing monasteries in what would later become France, Germany, and Switzerland. It was while living in Italy, working to convert the Arian Lombards and build the monastery of Bobbio, that Columbanus died in November, 615.

Lessons from the Life of Saint Columbanus

The missionary journeys of Columbanus have remained an inspiration to evangelists throughout history. While others were content to for the gospel to be confined to the urban centers of the late Roman Empire, Columbanus forged new ground by taking the message of Christ into rough rural regions dominated by centuries of paganism.

As he confronted rural paganism head on, Columbanus had much to fear, yet he remained steadfast because he believed that the devil was a defeated foe. As he sang in his boat song, “The ancient fiend, defeated, breaks his arrows.”

However, the main reason Columbanus made such an impact throughout Europe was because of the love and good works that emanated from the communities he founded. Twenty-eight years after his death, the monk Jonas wrote an account of his life, based on the eyewitness reports of those who had worked with him. His book, The Life of St. Columban, gives us a glimpse into what was so attractive about these communities:

Modesty and moderation, meekness and mildness adorned them all in equal measure. The evils of sloth and dissension were banished. Pride and haughtiness were expiated by severe punishments. Scorn and envy were driven out by faithful diligence. So great was the might of their patience, love and mildness that no one could doubt that the God of mercy dwelt among them. If they found that one among them was in error, they strove in common, with equal right, to restrain the sinner by their reproaches. They had everything in common. If anyone claimed anything as his own, he was shut out from association with the others and punished by penances. No one dared to return evil for evil, or to let fall a harsh word; so that people must have believed that an angelic life was being lived by mortal men. The holy man was reverenced with so great gratitude that where he remained for a time in a house, all hearts were resolved to practice the faith more strictly.

Questions for Reflection

Does the church have the right to give or withhold God’s forgiveness to anyone?

The Celts were some of the boldest evangelists the world has ever known. What are some ways that we could be more bold in evangelism? What about you?

Columbanus dealt with sexual temptations by fleeing the company of all women. Is this an appropriate way to deal with this temptation?

When he came to Gaul, Columbanus brought with him a certain structure of church government which clashed with that of the Frankish authorities. Is there one right way for church government to be organized, or should different churches have the right to make up their own rules? Should Columbanus have respected the customs of the Franks when he was living in their land?

Columbanus opposed practices of penance which diminished or denied the truth of God’s forgiveness. Are there ways in which we also diminish or deny this truth in our personal lives? What about you?

The story of Comgall represents the tendency among the Celts towards asceticism. Is asceticism Biblical? Is it sinful?

Scherman describes the Celtic Christian as having “a seeking curiosity, the desire to expand mental boundaries . . . to find new ideas in new settings.” Should the church try to cultivate an atmosphere of intellectual adventurism?

Was Columbanus wrong to disobey his mother, who asked him not to go into exile? Should we obey our parents even when we are grown?

The monastics believed that one of the most effective ways to evangelize the world was to withdraw from it and worship God in seclusion. Were they correct?

Is Biblical repentance a purely private act, or is it ever appropriate that there should be a public ceremony to demonstrate it? Is it appropriate for a pastor to require someone to do certain things as a proof of repentance?

Jonas tells us that the monks “had everything in common” and that “if anyone claimed anything as his own, he was shut out from association with the others and punished by penances.” Is this a worthy model to follow? What does the Bible teach about private property?

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